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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746906">We Shimmer Like Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlipOfAScribe/pseuds/SlipOfAScribe'>SlipOfAScribe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Golden Hearts and Souls of Stars [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, M/M, Multi, Necromancy, Polyamory, Racism, Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:21:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlipOfAScribe/pseuds/SlipOfAScribe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mahanon Lavellan didn't want to be part of this shem mess, but he had the mark, he was 'Herald', and they needed him. With his clan so far away, Mahanon needed an anchor to hold on to. He sought it in Solas, in Varric, in Sera. He sought in two men who just might save him, if they could allow one more person into their relationship.</p><p>Dorian has been with The Iron Bull and his Chargers for a while now. He felt safe from his father, but a new trouble is bothering him. Jealousy. And lust. That damned elf would either ruin everything or make it all so much better. The Iron Bull seemed to think it could only get better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull/Lavellan/Dorian Pavus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Golden Hearts and Souls of Stars [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Shouldn't Be Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>While it's not exactly necessary to read part one, this is a follow-up to I'm Golden if You Let Me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mahanon was short. He had accepted that about himself, and it wasn’t even something that typically played much of a role in his life. But since leaving his clan and spending time with the shems and others, Mahanon had never felt so small. His diminutive stature had helped when he snuck around the temple, listening in on conversations he shouldn’t be, but it was outright exemplified as the strong-jawed woman jerked him up by his bindings to drag him outside now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra, he thought her name was. His mind was still reeling with what the two women were accusing him of. His body ached, he was cold from the damp of the prison he was locked in, and his legs buzzed asleep from how they’d had him kneeling. Cassandra’s strong grip on his arm kept him upright though, and he had little choice but to let her tug him along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky was torn open; an impossibility right before his eyes. Looking at it, Mahanon’s mind felt like he was waking from a dream, some memories chasing after him, yelling at him to remember, don’t forget! But the more he tried to grip at them, the faster they slipped away.</span>
</p><p><span>Each time they picked up someone new, each time he was asked what had happened, his mind put up a heavier and heavier block. Clearly, something didn’t want him to know. Perhaps it was even his own mind’s defense at a strangely horrific memory. A Blight on his mind if that were the case because he was soon to either die trying to close the rift or be executed after a likely swift and biased trial. The </span><em><span>fenedhis</span></em> <em><span>shem</span></em><span> weren’t likely to look on a Dalish elf with favor. Or even basic decency in Mahanon’s experience.</span></p><p>
  <span>That’s why his Keeper had sent him here. Deshanna thought it best if they kept knowledge of the important goings-on of the shem, qunari, and durgen-len. It was often that their troubles spilled onto the Dalish eventually. Deshanna also believed that one day they could mend things with the other races, live in peace. Mahanon wasn’t so sure. He had been chosen among all the others because she felt he needed to see more of the world, away from the clan. To learn about the other races they shared Thedas with. He accepted so he could come back with proof that peace was not an option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he wasn’t sure he was going to come back at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahanon collapsed after defeating the pride demon and closing the rift beneath the gaping breach. The pain that had shot through the mark, up his arm, and buried itself deep inside of him was too much. There was a bright flash of green, and then darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swam in the darkness for a long time, body feeling like it was floating in some water. Mahanon was used to dreaming, and having this perpetual darkness was a restful change. He sat in nothing, thought of nothing, and woke feeling none of the aches from the previous...how ever long he’d been out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the elven girl scrambled away, seemingly terrified at what Cassandra would do to her if she took too long relaying news that he’d awoken, Mahanon had half a mind to march in and demand the freedom of all the elves in this place. He’d take them back to Clan Lavellan if they so desired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he scrubbed his hands over his face, along the long length of his ears, and heaved a sigh as he sat on the edge of his bed. He should get up and see what the world outside held for him. There might still be a trial. He wondered if he could slip away, run back to his clan alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting into his Dalish armor, Mahanon stepped outside and balked. Yeah, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to be able to slip away unnoticed. Everyone was gathered to get a look at him apparently. He heard the whispers, speaking of what he’d done, how he’d saved them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lasa ghilan,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mahanon muttered as he walked through the ranks of gawking shem and up to the chantry where Cassandra awaited.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Cassandra had chucked the hot-headed Chancellor out of the room, things turned in tone. She did not believe Mahanon responsible for the rift any longer, and that was something he supposed. The others looked ready to step up and fix things, and now Mahanon had a decision to make.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the one hand, he could leave and have his Keeper figure out the magic burned into his palm. On the other hand, he’d been sent here to learn, to find peace among the races. According to these shem, that’s what they were looking to create as well. They saw the trouble that the mage-templar war brought on everyone, and they wanted answers for the tragedy at the temple. Mahanon could help with that, given his unique position with being able to close the individual rifts. If the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evanuris </span>
  </em>
  <span>had given him this gift, he should not turn away from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The woman in the rift, many believe it to be Andraste and are calling you her Herald.” Josephine was a sweet woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon had a hard time disliking her, even while she spouted on about a prophet and god he didn’t believe in. He shrugged. “I don’t know. She looked more like Mythal to me. I wear her markings; perhaps she saw fit to save me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra made a noise of disagreement, but Josephine just smiled and nodded. “Perhaps. I suppose we shall never know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are establishing an Inquisition to put an end to this, whatever the origin. It affects all of Thedas.” Cassandra brought the conversation back around. “Will you help us, Lavellan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon glanced at the three women and the man in the fluffy armor. They looked back at him with hope. He wished he could talk to Solas before making a decision, but if Solas was sticking around, if that handsome dwarf was staying, perhaps it would be good for Mahanon to stay as well. Swell the ranks with more non-shems. So, he nodded. “If this can be of use,” he said, holding up his left hand, “then I have to stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all breathed a collective sigh of relief, and then Mahanon was entrenched. Commander Cullen stepped up next and unfurled a map across the table between them. He placed markers in certain areas and seemed set on his task while Leliana gave them the next steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon agreed to scout the Hinterlands, speak with their Chantry Sister and track down the Horsemaster. He was honestly happy to do so because that would mean getting away from the town of Haven and out into the world again. He was always more comfortable in the wild. He also insisted that Solas and Varric come with them, not feeling safe with a team of only shem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra led them from the small Inquisition encampment down into the valley, arguing with Varric while Mahanon fell back with Solas and chatted in Elvish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think we can trust the humans in this.” Mahanon watched Solas’s face for a reaction. He knew the man didn’t exactly trust everyone here, but he wasn’t sure to what extent. Mahanon also knew Solas didn’t exactly trust or like the Dalish either, so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solas nodded, his lips quirking up in thought. “Perhaps not, no. I think we will see a lot of missteps before the end of this, and many from the humans. But they’re not alone in this, and you have a very important role to play still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not by choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rarely we find ourselves in these positions by choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon snorted and rubbed along the length of his pointed ear. “You’re here by choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something new passed over Solas’s face. He smiled, narrowed his eyes as he looked skyward, and shook his head. It felt like he was sharing in a joke Mahanon didn’t get. “I would not be so sure of that. I happened to be here, same as anyone, so my choice in joining this Inquisition was a necessity more than a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still chose to stay. In all the chaos, you could have left.” Mahanon stopped, shifting some of his gear and really getting a look at Solas now. “Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solas pulled himself to a stop as well. He turned, regarding Mahanon in the same appraising way he was being looked at and shrugged. “Big hole in the sky, magic gone wild, and an explosion that will change the course of history? How could I not stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want to stay,” Mahanon said as his shoulders slumped. “If not for this thing,” he held up his hand, “I’d be back with my clan already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> stay.” Solas raised an eyebrow and quirked a grin at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I--” He did. He stayed, and now here was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flapped a hand at the elf and trudged along once more. They had a Horsemaster to find. Of course, that was easier said than done, and they ended up stuck at The Crossroads. The little crew helped quell some templar and mage fights, but hadn’t been able to locate the larger encampment of either faction. Instead, they got some refugees hunkered down at The Crossroads, supplied some hunted meat, and sent a bird back to Leliana requesting blankets and other supplies that were sorely needed here. Then they dealt with Horsemaster Dennet. That meant taking down some wolves and a demon, setting up watchtowers, and Cassandra convincing him they needed him to run their stables. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the while, Mahanon felt like he was being dragged through the motions. He stood back as a symbol, something the people whispered about with rumors and awe, but he let Cassandra do most of the speaking. He didn’t know how to deal with politics or convince people to join their cause. He could disappear on a battlefield and stick a knife in a guy’s back. He could close a rift by painfully channeling a bunch of power he didn’t understand through his own arm. But Mahanon did not like the other parts of what he’d signed up for. Having Solas around helped, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A little over a week later, they were back in Haven, planning on going to Val Royeaux to make contact with the Chantry, as Mother Giselle had discussed. Mahanon made himself busy around the camp while Leliana, Josephine, Cassandra, and Cullen argued over the best course of action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This afternoon was rather warm. The sun was out, shining off the snowy ground and creating a nice enough day that people were wandering around the encampment and making it crowded. Mahanon wandered as well, and found himself leaning against a half-wall near a fire with Varric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How you holding up, kid?” the dwarf asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon wrinkled his nose at that and shrugged. “I’m just looking around and wondering how I actually got here. I was not supposed to be this involved in anything.” He folded his arms over his chest and stared into the crackling fire. “What about you? Cassandra doesn’t seem interested in interrogating you any further. You could just leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Varric just looked Mahanon up and down in. He smiled, clearly finding whatever he was looking for. “Mm, that’s what </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want. I think you’re projecting some desires there. I couldn’t walk away from all of this, no matter how scary it all is. I’ve seen a lot, what with Kirkwall and Blondie’s mess, but I’ve seen a lot more going on here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon shifted his feet and flicked his eyes to Varric. The man seemed sincere in this, and something in his tone made Mahanon want to listen more. He clearly believes in what is being done here and since Mahanon has stayed, he needs to find a clearer reason for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if you’re sent from the Maker or just the unluckiest elf of our time, but you can help. And if I can help you in any way to clean this craziness up, then that’s what I’ll do.” Varric jabbed a log into the fire further. “Although, if you could get them to set up camp </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> on a snowy mountain, that would be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a snort, Mahanon nodded his agreement. “I’ll work on that. Make it a priority.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect.” Varric grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon tossed him a couple of personal questions and sat back to listen to the dwarf wind tales that </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be overembellished at the least and outright lies some of the time. It didn’t matter either way; Mahanon enjoyed listening to the stories. It reminded him of the Keeper telling stories to the younger elves around the fire at night. No one spoke of it, but some of the hunters would keep watch close to the fires on those nights, listening along with the children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Mahanon, I was hoping to find you.” Solas approached the fire, leaning on his staff. “Cassandra is going with us to Val Royeaux. She figured you would want to bring Varric and me along, so we’re to get ready to leave by nightfall. Leliana has a small entourage of her people bringing us there on horseback.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they were back to business, it seemed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My legs hate horseback,” Varric complained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could fetch you a pony,” Solas shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two bickered as Mahanon went to the room they’d given him. He wanted to pack up and have a moment alone before setting out again. While he was used to traveling with his Clan, going into a city like Val Royeaux was something new. They mainly avoided shem cities like they housed a plague. And they did--shemlin who would love an excuse to go after a Dalish clan. 

This trip would again be a moment of Mahanon standing around like some mystery to be stared at while Cassandra grunted her way through conversation. The woman seemed to hate politics as much as Mahanon, but unlike the elf, she knew the necessity of using it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Val Royeaux was loud. It was the busiest city Mahanon had ever been in. The buildings loomed large, casting their shadows over everything, and Mahanon had to crane his neck painfully just to see the tops of them. People rushed here and there, arms full of things or servants following them with </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> arms full of things. As Mahanon and his little troupe passed, the whispering started. A buzz of words, pointing fingers, and curses from underneath ridiculous masks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon flattened his ears along the sides of his head, grimacing as they entered the plaza with the large fountain. The loudness and busyness of the place only intensified. He found himself folding an arm over his chest and gripping at his bicep, trying to sink in on himself as they approached a thrown-together platform where a Sister stood preaching to the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra called out to her, and they went back and forth for a few rounds. Mahanon listened, shifted his feet, and glanced at Solas. The man was watching the Sister with a blank expression on his face. Then another whisper went up and the sister yelled out about Templars. A group was approaching the platform, some in armor, some in robe-like attire, but all with the Templar markings. A man with a sour face strolled up the platform and punched the woman across the chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mahanon demanded, pushing through the crowd and hauling himself up on the platform. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignored the Templars, the Lord Seeker spouting how the Chantry has failed. Mahanon reached out for the woman, checking her face. It would bruise but nothing was bleeding. He helped her to feet, moving her away from the armored men. Elves often had to maneuver their hurt compatriots out from under the feet of men, so Mahanon knew how to move now. The Lord Seeker barely looked at him and instead he spewed hateful nonsense to the crowds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are weak. Your Inquisition is weak,” he said turning on Mahanon finally. “Look at you, cowering behind us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it weak to help? Or perhaps the weakness lies in striking at those less powerful than you. You’ve proved nothing here, shem, but the furthering of your own violence-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bah! Herald of Andraste? The Maker sees all and will judge all.” The man dragged the rest of the Templar away, abandoning yet another of their posts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon curled his lip at their retreat, but turned back to the Chantry Sister. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved him off. “Are you happy now, Lady Pentaghast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra stepped up next to Mahanon. “Why would this make me happy? We came to talk, and this mess is not our fault. We wanted to help!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help? Every offer of help we’ve gotten has ended in ruin.” The Sister waved her away as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon took it that they were done in this wretched place. He’d been here less than an hour and already he had his view of it, of what ‘help’ they’d find. None. The politics of the world were crumbling into chaos, and Mahanon wasn’t sure where they’d find help now. Each faction proclaimed wanting to save the world, but really they were only interested in furthering their own cause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Cassandra. The Chantry and Templars are useless.” He turned, jumped down off the platform, and headed back for the main gates where Leliana’s people awaited them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely someone from their ranks can be reasoned with,” Cassandra insisted as she jogged to catch up with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seeker Lambert didn’t seem in a reasoning mood,” Solas said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that Sister didn’t seem to care for our help.” Mahanon shook his head. He sighed and the sound was sucked back into a shocked breath as an arrow nearly hit his foot. “What the fuck?” And they all went on alert, pulling weapons, Solas casting a shielding over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s. A letter?” Cassandra pointed at the thing with the point of her sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Mahanon grabbed the paper and unfurled it. “Red Jenny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ve heard of them!” Varric reached a hand out for the paper. “May I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon handed it over and waited for him to say more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re a sort of rogue group. Typically just a few people actually ‘run’ the section in the cities, but lower class people, servants and slave types, they can reach out to the Red Jenny with complaints or rumors and bad people are...let’s say, taken care of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like assassins?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eehhhh…” Varric shrugged his shoulders as he handed the letter back. “Not really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon pursed his lips and looked around. They hadn’t spotted the archer before and he still didn’t see anyone who filled the bill. “Worth playing the game?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting in the least,” Solas said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we really want to lower ourselves to that sort of alliance?” Cassandra asked with her typical scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in that ire made Mahanon’s choice. “I think it would be useful to look for help outside of the petty squabbles of the rich and powerful, yes. If they have connections across Thedas, hidden corners and with those who deserve justice, yes, I think we should ‘lower’ ourselves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stomped away, the directions of where to find the red markers in his head. Docks, the restaurant outside, upstairs in some flowerbed. When they found themselves in something of an ambush, Mahanon grit his teeth and was ready for Cassandra to chastise him for his poor decisions, but Sera ended up being the help he was looking for. She went off to pack her things, and Mahanon tried once more to leave the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One interesting invite to Redcliffe and one ball where Mahanon had a man choked to death on frozen magic later, Mahanon was finally heading back to Haven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he lay on his cot in the small tent the first night on the road, he tried not to think of this trip as a complete failing. They’d made contact with many factions. They’d gathered important information and new allies. They hadn’t died. But as he curled, pulling a blanket tighter about his shoulder, Mahanon just felt empty. He wanted to go home, he wanted the shem to leave his people alone. He wanted…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon wanted to not feel so alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~*~*~*~*~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Iron Bull?” Dorian sat on a piece of driftwood, one leg tossed over the other as he looked at his face in a hand-held mirror. The crashing of waves tried to drown out his words and the wet splash of saltwater tried to cling to his nice, new robes. He should have left them packed away, but he refused to lower himself any more than he already felt he had. His eyeliner was a mess, his powders didn’t stay on, and the damp kept his hair from fluffing nicely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, kadan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian had been with The Iron Bull and his Chargers for over a year now. He’d been with The Iron Bull romantically for nearly eight months now. They had a lot more growing to do together, sure, but they listened to each other. “If I have to stay out on this Blighted coast for much longer, I’m going back to Tevinter and taking my rightful place as Archon then waging war against all of Thedas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d make a hot Archon, Dor. I’m guessing you’d change the outfits. Oh!” Bull came over and scooped him off the log, hiking him up and making him wrap his legs around Bull’s torso. “You’d look really good in a set of black and gold robes, to match your make-up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian gave an indignant squawk as he was hauled up and into The Iron Bull’s arms, then swatted at his shoulders. “Put me down, you brute!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kiss me first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a pout, trying to be as showy about it as he could, Dorian leaned back in The Iron Bull’s arms. He knew the man wouldn’t drop him, and he got to watch the way his arms bulged to offset the weight of Dorian leaning back. When Bull’s arms shook a little, Dorian broke and tossed himself forward again, wrapping his arms around Bull’s neck and finally kissing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A clearing of a throat interrupted their moment and they pulled apart. Krem stood a few feet off with a raised eyebrow. “I spoke to the Herald himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Dorian shimmied down out of The Iron Bull’s arms. “Is he an abomination?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krem snorted. “Not that I can tell. He was the only one who would give me the time of day, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull made a hum of a noise that Dorian recognized as when he picks up some piece of insight. "And what did the dear Herald say?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's making the trip out here. I gave him the estimated landing dates of the Venatori, so hopefully everything lines up." Krem stepped up closer as they spoke and even offered Dorian a smile. Their friendship had been slow going - like, dragged through the tunnels of the Deep Roads kind of slow, but Krem and Dorian were friends now. Mostly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is he cute?" Dorian asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you fuck anyone besides Bull," Krem jabbed a finger at his chest, "I will personally flay you and leave you for the spiders in those caves." He swung his pointing fingers toward a cave a few hundred yards away that everyone was convinced held some disgusting monster in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian shuddered and pressed against The Iron Bull who was chuckling. "I would only do so with permission. And probably invite Bull to join."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Heh, you better invite me. Only way you're getting an okay out of me, big guy." Bull pressed a kiss to the top of Dorian's head. "But business. I want the Inquisition to see what we’re capable of, and I don’t want to put the Herald in any unnecessary harm. So, give me a plan boys.” He extended his arm out over the beach and the two men looked out with him, ideas springing into both of their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they brought the main group of the Chargers over, letting the newbies and recruits they were testing out make rounds and keep camp. Dalish and Dorian sat on the log, and he put a hand on her knee as they spoke about wards, glyphs they could lay out, and how many lyrium potions they had between them. Rocky was detailing a plan about dropping a rockslide on the first charge of Venatori, while Skinner, Grim, and Krem sharpened weapons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll get involved,” Krem offered. “The Inquisition team. Apparently their Herald is very hands-on, much to the dismay of their leaders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” The Iron Bull perked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the redheaded one you told me to watch, she was complaining to the ex-Seeker about him. Said he’s leading too many dangerous missions and wanted to command him to hang back, give orders from their stronghold.” Krem grinned and shook his head. “So ex-Seeker told Red to give it a go, and damn, that elf was not happy. He ran into me after telling her where to shove it and loudly enough for her to hear said he’d come personally to fight alongside our team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian glanced at The Iron Bull and watched his eyebrows raise up. His one silver eye shone with interest, and there was a pang of jealousy that went through Dorian. “Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” The Iron Bull had heard apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, mage-talk.” He shot a quick look at Dalish who always had his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned and nodded. “Just bitching about you not taking shielding but insisting on being in the middle of everything. Makes it hard to cast, you know.” Dalish winked at The Iron Bull and it was enough to distract him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that hard to pay attention to where you’re casting,” he argued back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Dalish pretended to cave so they could get back to planning. “I think after Rocky sets off that landslide, we should have some glyphs laid out where the rest of the Venatori would skirt around to avoid the mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Krem, talk a walk with Dalish and Rocky and get that set up where you think their most likely path would be,” The Iron Bull said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian watched his friends head off and he stood as well, brushing off the butt of his robes. “You should have Dalish and I on high ground to counter their casters.” He nodded toward a knoll with a rock outcropping. “Good place to hide and pop out when needed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull looked up at the spot and nodded. “Go up and take cover. I want to make sure you can’t be seen.” He seemed to worry most when Dorian was involved. He wasn’t going to let this one go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Dorian patted his arm before he trudged up the hill. He ducked down behind the rocks, angled his staff down, and waited to hear from The Iron Bull. It had taken some time, as any would expect, but Dorian really felt part of the crew now. He added not just magic, but insight. He helped multiple times to get more money from contracts when nobles were involved. More than that, though, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>felt he was useful. While he’d had to leave his life’s work with Gereon and Felix behind, he’d found a new place here. Plus, he had time to work on projects with the Chargers. The Iron Bull got a new pack-horse so Dorian could keep materials he needed for his studies, and through correspondences with the Alexiuses, he helped out with their research as well. It worked, and Dorian actually felt happy for a change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dor, pop up so I can see you,” The Iron Bull called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian stood, bringing his staff up in an offensive tilt toward the would-be battlefield. Bull was roughly where he thought, so his staff end pointed about at him. “So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should be fine. Especially with the distraction of everything else on the battlefield, but can you get down from there quickly and safely?” Bull folded his arms over his chest as he watched Dorian moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pathway down to the right, and it moved behind the outcropping to give continued cover for most of the way down. Dorian sprang down it, felt some restriction in his robes since he wasn’t wearing the ones he would typically fight in, but made it down easily and quickly. Back at Bull’s side, he looked up at him expectantly. “Should be fine,” he parroted and grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull hauled him back up into his arms again. “Great, now I have a question about our tent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Dorian carefully brought his staff around Bull’s back, not wanting to knock into him with it. “And what question might that be, amatus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m wondering how much that new cot we got can withstand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A good question. We should find out.” Dorian nipped at the pointed tip of The Iron Bull’s ear and felt him rumble happily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rocky came jogging over, “Hey Chief, I think we’re all-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You boys have it in hand, I’m sure,” The Iron Bull interrupted. “Dorian and I have something very important to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a snort, Rocky waved them on. “Yeah, each other?” He rolled his eyes and then groaned when Dorian shot him a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull carried him into the tent and set him back on his feet. “We need to get that man back to Maevaris’s,” Bull chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure they’d both enjoy that.” Dorian started unclipping the buckles to his robe. “Do you still have that silk blindfold?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Bull said as his baggy trousers hit the floor, leaving him bare-assed with his thick cock hanging heavily between his legs, on display for Dorian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian’s fingers tripped over the work on his buckles and robes as he caught sight of that cock. He licked his hips and groaned. “Can you fetch it please? I’d like to use it on you this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bull’s eyebrows went up again. “On me? Kadan, are you trying to switch roles on me?” He grinned teasingly but went for the bag of their toys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian snorted. “Hardly. But you don’t always have to be the one doing all the heavy lifting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> heavy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har har,” Dorian shot back. “But really, I think you’ll enjoy this.” He paused, turned narrowed eyes on the qunari and dropped his voice down low and sultry to say, “Sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull’s dick twitched at that, getting hard as he held out the cloth toward Dorian. “Mm, big guy, you’re going to be the death of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you please get on the cot, sir? On your back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grin, Bull stretched out on their cot. “What exactly do you have in mind today, kadan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked good like that, relaxed and just watching. That dusky gray skin riddled with streaks of brighter white scaring took up so much space. His ankle, still encased in the special brace that Dorian had taken weeks to create, sat slightly elevated on a pillow they kept down there just for that. Lately, what with rebellions and explosions, they haven’t had much time alone, and The Iron Bull was so used to giving that Dorian felt he was allowing himself to be neglected. Well, Dorian was set on changing that pattern right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I plan on you enjoying yourself, amatus.” Dorian stripped away the rest of his clothes, peeling the layers back as Bull’s eye roved over his exposed flesh. He knew how much The Iron Bull liked watching him slowly undress, so he took his time. Then he climbed up and straddled Bull’s hips. “I’m going to take the patch off, alright?” It was something only ever done in the private of their room and not often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull nodded and gave a grunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian reached carefully for it, untying the leather and setting it neatly aside on the crate by their bed. Then he brought the silken scarf over Bull’s eyes and tied it in place. “How’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bull tipped his head up and to the side. “Can’t see anything, not too tight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian smoothed his hand over Bull’s cheek and leaned down, placing his lips gently against his. He kissed him slowly, not parting his lips at first. When Bull started to squirm impatiently, Dorian dragged his tongue over Bull’s bottom lip, nipped it, and then trailed his mouth lower across his jaw. He pulled up and hovered, his breath tickling over The Iron Bull’s skin and then nipped at his neck on the other side. Slowly, he worked his way down further, lathing his tongue over the expanse of flesh on his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting his teeth to Bull’s nipple, he dragged his teeth and drew a gasp from the qunari. Dorian raked his fingers down his ribs, nails scraping slightly, and he felt Bull shudder. From his own experience, Dorian knew how much </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>he felt everything not being able to see the touches. He cupped Bull’s other pec and massaged the muscle, thumbing over the nipple there and still working the other between his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kadan, you’re killing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian chuckled and nipped a little harder, drawing a hiss this time. “Oh, I’m sure you’re fine.” Pressing back from his knees, Dorian pushed his hips back and dragged his ass along The Iron Bull’s erection. He was definitely hard now. Still, he didn’t want to lose Bull here; he wanted to please the man until he couldn’t think straight for a few hours. So Dorian moved his mouth down further. He shifted on the bed, shimmying down carefully so that he hovered between Bull’s legs but didn’t touch him anywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he breathed out over the length of Bull’s erection. It twitched again and Bull’s hips jerked upwards. Dorian chuckled and pulled back so he didn’t bump against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy sir,” he said in a soft hum. He was drawing everything to a softer sound, softer touches. He wanted to draw The Iron Bull’s attention to a sharp focus, to one single spot on himself so that he felt nothing but what Dorian dictated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull gave a nod and settled again. Dorian put his hands on top of his thighs and massaged, rubbed his thumbs over the soft skin there. He felt The Iron Bull settle and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning forward, Dorian put his lips to the head of Bull’s cock and licked. Bull shuddered and he wrapped his mouth around him, sinking down slowly on the shaft. The Iron Bull was thick, but Dorian had a lot of practice with this. He hollowed his cheeks as he went down, pressing a tongue along the back of the shaft, and felt Bull’s cock push at the back of his throat. He pulled up and off, leaving it slick with spit. Then he blew across it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” Bull’s hips jerked again. He was not used to being the one paid such close attention and it showed. Dorian felt a bit of guilt ebb through the back of his thoughts at this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still good, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Bull panted. “Fuck yes, Dor. Keep going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian did. He lifted his hands away and used just one to adjust The Iron Bull’s dick before sucking him back down again. He twirled his tongue around the head, flicked over the slit, pumped the silken skin of his shaft up and down. Dorian put so much attention on his cock that when he reached up and pinched one of The Iron Bull’s nipples, he got a yelp of qunlat cursing and a thrust of hips that had Dorian deep throating the erection. After a slight gag at first, Dorian relaxed his throat and pushed his face down to bury his nose against the warm, soft skin below Bull’s navel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was the best combination of hard muscle and insulating fat, and Dorian loved the feel of it. He cupped Bull’s pec, flicking his thumb over the suddenly-abused nipple and gripped at his soft hips with his other hand. He put his mouth around the head again, lathing his tongue around the thickness. The heavy, silken feeling against his tongue was pleasant, gratifying as The Iron Bull groaned beneath his ministrations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nnh, Dor. If you wanted something else from this,” Bull panted, clearly struggling through his words. “You’re gunna wanna stop what you’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a chuckle while still wrapped around Bull’s dick, Dorian dragged his hands down The Iron Bull’s body then pulled off his cock with a pop. He licked his lips and looked up that long, bulky body. The blindfold was still in place, and The Iron BUll’s hands were fisted in the blankets. He was close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian took a moment though. He lightly drew his fingers over scars, over muscles, over Bull’s arms and thighs. He watched Bull’s skin tighten and shiver beneath those touches, and he knew he was driving the man slightly insane with it all, but The Iron Bull didn’t say a word beyond groans of pleasure. Dorian made his touches harder, massaging at the muscle beneath the skin he’d been tracing over. Once he’d worked over nearly every inch of The Iron Bull’s body, he climbed up on his hips and pushed his ass back along the thick erection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to fuck myself on you, amatus, until you can’t take it anymore and you cum inside me so hard you’ll see stars against the back of your eyelids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull’s gasp turned to a groan and he rutted his hips up against Dorian’s ass. “Please,” he whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a smile, Dorian reached over to their bag beside the bed and pulled out a vial of lubricant. He slicked up Bull’s cock with it, grasped him firmly, and slowly sank himself down on the girth. The Iron Bull was big, and he stretched Dorian open with such a blissful fullness that Dorian’s head spun a little as he seated himself to the hilt. He breathed out when his ass finally sat flush against Bull, but that one breath was the only monet he gave himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Planting his hands firmly on The Iron Bull’s pecs, he lifted himself back up and then down again. He rode The Iron Bull in an undulating, quick pace. He squeezed his inner muscles as he pulled himself up, ground forward as he went down. His thighs grew hot after just a few pumps and ached as he used them for leverage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dorian’s focus was on The Iron Bull’s face, not his own body yelling at him for pushing too hard. Bull bit his lip, then dropped his jaw and gasped. He gripped at Dorian’s hips and thrust up to meet his pace. Dorian watched his jaw tighten again as he rode into the thrusting and began to find the edges of a growing orgasm once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having had as much sex as he had with The Iron Bull, Dorian was learning a lot about his tells and things he liked. Dorian knew how to angle his hips, to twist in a slight circular motion on his way down, and get Bull panting heavily. He knew how to grind and tighten as he bottomed out, to hold that for a moment as Bull fucked up into him and his fingertips pressed into the soft flesh of Dorian’s hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew when The Iron Bull was going to cum so he could dip down and catch his lips in a kiss at just that moment. He rode Bull through his orgasm, pressing their tongues together and gulping down his groans, his own orgasm warmly building in the background but yet unachieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When The Iron Bull’s hips stuttered and his fingers tensed again, Dorian stopped moving. He let Bull gently lift him off his softening and sensitive dick so that he could sit on his hips instead. Dorian collapsed against his chest and trailed his lips and teeth over Bull’s jawline once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still hard, kadan. You didn’t get off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Dorian hummed. “Not yet.” He grounds his hips lazily against Bull’s stomach. “I was too busy enjoying watching you writhe in pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? You know I love showing off for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian heard the shift of material and felt the flutter of the blindfold across his own back. The Iron Bull must have taken it off and was now trailing it over him. “Did you like the blindfold then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Bull nuzzled at Dorian’s hair and inhaled. He loved the soaps and scents Dorian used. “Let me help you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull flipped them both over so that Dorian was the one sprawled on his back now. Then Bull sunk down and wrapped his lips around Dorian’s cock. It didn’t take long, just a few strokes of tongue, a soft squeeze of his balls, and Dorian was emptying down The Iron Bull’s throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They collapsed together, legs entwined, hands on each other’s faces or chests and spent long minutes just breathing and looking at each other. Bull’s eye patch was still off, a rarity, and Dorian took time to memorize his face without it. The ruined flesh where an eye used to be looked like old scars, like things that would ache during the rain. So much of The Iron Bull looked like pain and Dorian couldn’t help the look that went across his face; concern in the dropped eyebrows and pursed lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” The Iron Bull asked in a low voice. They had little concern about being heard having sex, but their conversations were private, just for the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see so much hurt and I wish I could make it so none of it happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian looked at Bull with more confusion now. “How do you know that though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, my time in Sehereon made me question what I was taught. If I had not had that pain, I would not have the questions and I would not have left the Qun. If I had not left the Qun…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both knew that one. He’d been called back right in the middle of their budding relationship, but his attachment to Dorian, his connection with the Chargers as their leader, kept him from going back. It had cost The Iron Bull a large part of his life, one that was now tied irrevocably to Dorian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, that was what Dorian hoped. He leaned forward and kissed The Iron Bull’s nose. “I am glad you are here, amatus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too, kadan.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Where Land Meets Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Storm Coast was aptly named and Mahanon hated it. The ocean was too loud, the sky dropped perpetual rain, and the wet shem smelled horrible; their metal and fur armor was not made to be constantly damp. Sitting in his tent after getting settled in Harding’s little camp, Mahanon wiped down his own elven armor. It was treated leather, waxed to allow rain and wet to roll right off. He put it to his nose and inhaled, double checking that he wasn’t just being unfair in his dislike of the shem. No, he didn’t mind the smell of the leather as he did the wet padding of the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Mahanon stood and got himself dressed. They were to head out and meet up at the rally point with The Chargers. There had been plans in the note Krem left with him, an ambush, and a request that the Inquisition stand back at the start of things. A chance for The Iron Bull to prove his team and not have the Inquisition ruin the trap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon was certainly interested to see how they worked together. The Inquisition worked well enough, he supposed, but it was clear they didn’t have strong connections to each other. He wondered, occasionally, if the drive to close the rift was enough to keep them together or if their differences were going to tear them apart. He knew he was a little rough with many of them and should likely change that. He grabbed his twin blades from the chest at the end of his cot and strapped them to his back. Finally, he added the shin guards that put soft wraps around part of his feet. He hadn’t adapted to the shem armor they’d tried to give him; he hadn’t liked the shoes. They made him feel off balance and disconnected from the earth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood at the front flap of his tent and took in a deep breath, steeling his features for facing the small group. He stretched his face in a smile, figured it would look fake, and dropped his mouth to a soft, straight line of nonchalance. Outside near a covered table with maps and supplies stood Cassandra, Warden Blackwall, Varric, Solas, and two of Leliana’s people. Sera and Madame Vivienne were back in Haven working on other projects Mahanon wanted done. Sera worked really well on her own, using her ‘people’, as she called them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see the water from here. We can’t be far from The Chargers’ camp, right?” Mahanon asked as he approached the table, arms folded over his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra looked up with her perfunctory frown. “Not far, no. We will head down the pathway there and hug the hills until we reach the coast. From there, I assume we will be at the back side of their camp and out of their way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon nodded. “Good. When do we head out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blackwall answered, “Soon. I suggested we send our mage and archer up to high ground, but Cassandra disagrees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made some sense, allowing the two to toss magic and arrows without being the target of stronger warrior types on the actual field, but if they had this idea so too could these Ventatori people Cremissius mentioned. Mahanon didn’t like the idea of sending Solas and Varric up alone with that possibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know the setup of the battlefield. What The Chargers have planned.” He shifted and looked at Solas and Varric. They were both quiet but watching him back. Then, a soft shake of the head from Solas. “I would rather they stick with us. I don’t want to split up in this type of unknown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warden grumbled something unintelligible but nodded and stepped back. Cassandra took the front again, looking too pleased with herself. “Shall we head out then, Herald?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon flicked his eyes up and down Blackwall a moment, assessing if this man was going to become a problem at some point. The Wardens may have people from all walks of life, gave second chances to people with few options, and built them up into something moral and good, but that didn't mean Mahanon could trust that this particular man would do what was best for the Inquisition. The Inquisition had nothing to do with Wardens after all. He didn’t give much away beyond the stubborn flat look he took on when he wasn’t talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something Mahanon really hated about shem was that he was missing a whole point of context with their faces. They didn’t move their ears like elves; they couldn’t. Mahanon’s own ears were raised up, alert and listening as they discussed things. Little human ears gave him nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let’s go.” He turned away from them all and felt their eyes boring holes in his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following the path down, the cluster of Inquisition hugged along the hillside just as Cassandra suggested. The bulkier warriors weren’t exactly quiet. Even Varric tripped a few times and scattered rocks in an echo in the valley. Mahanon grit his teeth and kept from snapping at them. Instead, he focused his thoughts on a coming fight. He focused on his breathing, on each step he took and making sure he connected with solid ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they rounded the corner of the hills and spilled out onto the beach, the small Inquisition force was met with an interesting sight. A huge qunari warrior was swinging a large warhammer into a small group of Venatori. Around him were all sorts of people, shem, elves...durgen-len even. And around them were swarmed Tevinter warriors and mages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon guessed they’d missed whatever started this, a huge rock pile and blasts of fire and ice behind the fighting, so he motioned for his people to join. Mahanon was small and quick. He could run through a battlefield nearly unseen, and he used that now. He dodged around the taller shem, slicing into robed bodies, between plates of metal and into the armpits of ring mail. He tossed powders into the faces of fighters and disappeared a moment later, leaving the enemy retching and blind. Mahanon slid through them all like water breaking apart rocks. He left splintered men in his wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he nearly stumbled. There was a mage in the midst of it all, twirling bits of oddly purple magic about the Venatori; he himself looked to be a ‘Vint but he was clearly not part of their ranks. A Tevinter mage and a Qunari mercenary? Mahanon tilted his head, regarding the man and the seeming circumstances. The blast of ice that hit his shoulder drew Mahanon back to the present battle. He fought against the chilling effect, trying to duck into the chaos once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twirled with blades spinning around a large ‘Vint with a warhammer and sliced at the backs of his legs, along calves and tendons. His roar and haphazard swing of the hammer let Mahanon slip away. He danced through the battlefield again, mind firmly where it should be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed almost moments later, the fighters were looking around themselves, accounting for the living. The ground was littered with dead Venatori, a few men and women in mercenary gear, but the Inquisition people were fine. Mostly. Warden Blackwall was assessing a wound on his arm, and Varric was pressing a hand to a cut on his forearm. They didn’t need Mahanon’s help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Casting his glance further around the field, Mahanon locked eyes with that qunari warrior and the creature held his head a little higher before calling out, “Chargers! Stand down.” He could see the stirrings of Inquisition and his own men assessing threats in each other, just as Mahanon saw the tension sitting there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breaking the strong gaze of the qunari, Mahanon’s eyes sought that ‘Vint mage teamed up with the mercenaries. The man strode through the muck delicately, like he was used to avoiding gore. Prim. His leather armor was full of buckles. His face was--Mahanon curled his lip as though he hated his own thought--gorgeous. Warm, sandy skin, coiffed hair, and a mustache that Mahanon pictured curling his finger around. He watched the mage move over toward the qunari.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amatus.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon narrowed his eyes as he watched the two draw near, checking each other over for hurt. The qunari grabbed the man’s chin in one hand, tilting it this way and that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You good, kadan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon didn’t speak either of their languages, but he could tell what those words were. Endearment. The human ran his hand over the qunari’s chest and then patted him. “I’m fine.” He turned and smiled brightly at Mahanon. “You must be the one they call The Herald.” His hands wrapped around a heavy, onyx staff and he leaned on it as he looked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Mahanon shifted, not sure what to do with his blood covered blades. He couldn’t just stick them back in the scabbards like this. He kept the points down so to at least be non-threatening as they spoke. “The Iron Bull?” he asked, looking up at the qunari with the huge horns that stuck out like, well, like a bull’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned just as widely as the mage did. “That’s right. Horns usually give it away. And this,” The Iron Bull put a hand on the mage’s lower back, “is Dorian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mahanon.” He stuck a hand out toward The Iron Bull first and his tiny hand was engulfed by the huge gray one. He shook it then offered a hand to Dorian. This time he didn’t feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>as</span>
  </em>
  <span> engulfed but Dorian was still much larger than Mahanon. “It’s a pleasure. I was rather impressed by the scene we walked in on.” He glanced back at the body-strewn beach. The Chargers were crawling across it, slitting throats and tending to their own wounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re a good company. And we’re very interested in helping out with this mess. Dorian here has some good connections in Tevinter regarding that odd cult that’s springing up, and I’ve made a lot of contacts since being posted here.” The Iron Bull motioned toward a big, washed up tree. It was half buried and could be used as a place to sit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon looked out at his people, saw Cassandra start for them, and he shook his head, waved her off. She looked annoyed, and he couldn’t blame her. Mahanon hadn’t been the one to take charge in ally acquisition yet, aside from interpreting for Sera’s crazy-speak. There was something about these two that drew him in, though. He wanted to be the one to assess them and, maybe, invite them on. And Mahanon didn’t care to hear someone else's opinion about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a seat at one end, pulling out a piece of cloth from his satchel to wipe the blades down as they spoke. “Posted? Are you still in the Qun then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not anymore. I was for a while, using the Chargers as cover for a time, but I left that life months ago.” The Iron Bull and Dorian took a seat next to each other. “I still know people though, friends I’ve made in my time here. They could be useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon nodded. “Could be. What sort of friends do qunari mercenaries under cover for the Qun make?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull chuckled. “All sorts, even some nobles, believe it or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon flicked his eyes to Dorian, someone clearly of higher standing in the shem society. “I believe it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I’ve also left a life behind,” Dorian said after catching the look. “Though I maintain some important contacts, I’m just a mercenary now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And got in bed with the mercenary leader.” Both Dorian and Bull laughed at Mahanon’s words, and Mahanon tilted his head, dropping his ears back as he reassessed them. “You’re an odd group. Why the interest in the Inquisition?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems fun,” The Iron Bull said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Demons falling from the sky, Chantries blowing up, the whole of Thedas on the brink of the biggest piece of history in years?” Dorian absolutely gushed with excitement. “How could we </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to be involved?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a nod, “Fair point.” Mahanon shifted, put away his mostly clean blade and started on the second one. “What drew you to the Inquisition over another group?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” they both said in unison before The Iron Bull continued. “That mark. Everyone’s heard about it by now, and there are a lot of rumors about you. Honestly? We wanted to see if you were someone who was going to help Thedas or were some abomination set to destroy it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon rubbed his ears and sighed. “Yeah, seems to be everyone’s question at the moment.” The only one who </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>accused him yet was Solas, and that, paired with his being an elf, was why Mahanon trusted him the most. He looked over at the elf now and beckoned him over. “I think we should talk about who I am and how you’d fit in with everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull inclined his head and they settled in to talk things out. Solas stood at Mahanon’s side, much to the other Inquisition members’ question or annoyance. But he helped. When Mahanon felt lost, he could speak to him in elvish without feeling pressured about being understood by these people before he was ready for them to hear what he had to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How have you heard about these Venatori?” Mahanon asked, eyes trialing to Dorian. He had to have some opinion considering their origin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian took in a deep breath, The Iron Bull rubbed his back, and then he set his head high. “I’ve contacts in some positions of power who’ve been watching certain...avenues. It turns out that I personally know a couple who have joined and are funding this fanatical group. So much as I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be surprised, I unfortunately am not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve dealt with these people before, Dorian much more intimately, but we have information on where they might be headed next.” The Iron Bull reached up and rubbed at the base of his horn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly, this conversation was making both of them uncomfortable. “Where is that? We’ve only had a few run-ins with them. Mainly letters after a small ambush in the Hinterlands.” Mahanon hadn’t thought the group was something to be immensely worried about, but the way these two spoke around it made it seem like the group was bigger and more of a problem than anyone thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re in Redcliffe, actually.” Dorian shook his head. “The Venatori seem to have an interest in the Rebel Mages there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solas touched Mahanon’s forearm and spoke in elvish, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That could be a problem with contacting Fiona. If she’s working with Venatori, things could be very dangerous for us there.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I agree. And it’s something we can’t ignore.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mahanon shifted and chewed his bottom lip. “I was invited to Redcliffe by Enchanter Fiona. Do you know if she is working with this cult?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. I just know that something very valuable was stolen from my former mentor. A piece of time magic, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon raised a brow at this, his nose wrinkling in a mix of confusion and disbelief. Next to him, Solas made a hum of thought but stayed quiet. So Mahanon asked, “Time magic? That’s not something that exists.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a snort of derision, Dorian flapped a hand like that could dissuade disbelief. “It does now. Well, it wasn’t perfected when I was working on it with Magister Alexius, but it seems to be doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> now that my father has his hands on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull bumped his fist into Dorian’s shoulder. Apparently he’d spilled too much in this sitting. Which was odd that that was where the line of too much was drawn considering how open The Iron Bull had been about his association with the Qun. Perhaps Dorian’s connections home weren’t as laid to rest as he originally made them seem. Mahanon was wary now, but curious too. And so was Solas, apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take it they’ve used this magic in Redcliffe already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so much used as allowed to affect the area of Redcliffe. They made a test run of it, I assume, to arrive there so quickly your invitation by Fiona,” Dorian explained further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And by reports I’ve gotten, it’s affecting the rifts in that area. People are concerned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon looked at Solas, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leliana hasn’t had reports of this yet?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Solas shook his head. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not that I’ve heard or seen.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That needs…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mahanon struggled to find the word. As much as he’s learned from his Keeper, from listening in and speaking with his Clan, there is still much that is lost to them. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Made right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Correcting.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Solas was wonderful at giving Mahanon words he’d lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Correcting, thank you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Turning back to Bull and Dorian who were watching patiently and without the judgmental looks Mahanon has come to expect from others, he returns to the common tongue. “I suppose we should make a trip to Redcliffe. Thank you for the information.” He paused there, wanting it to seem as though information is all he’d come for. He wanted to gauge their reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian frowned, curling his mustache around one finger but The Iron Bull just inclined his head in a nod. They were also quiet, allowing Mahanon to look them over more closely. The Iron Bull was clearly one of patience. He was still in his waiting. Dorain on the other hand burbled with energy. Even something as mundane as his breathing seemed to boil up from deep inside of him, spill out in small movements of his shoulders. His fingers twitched around his staff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mahanon looked out from them to the larger company again. With their leader discussing business, the others were keeping busy. They piled bodies, collected their own wounded to be cared for, and cleaned weapons. Each followed instructions given from some of those who seemed higher ranking, or perhaps had just been there the longest. They flowed smoothly. In spite of all the races in attendance. That was something Mahanon liked, appreciated. They could use more of that in the Inquisition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about the money. Josephine will handle that. Your concern should just be how you can put us to use.” The Iron Bull sounded so sure of everything, and something in that attitude made Mahanon relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I like them,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Solas said with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Me too.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mahanon stuck a hand out to The Iron Bull. “Alright, welcome to the Inquisition.” They shook, then he and Dorian shook, and the party was suddenly bigger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~*~*~*~*~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like him,” The Iron Bull said as he packed his things. He heard Dorian somewhere behind, doing the same thing. Of course, Dorian had much more to pack. He waited to hear an argument.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None came. Instead, he heard Dorian stuff more things in a bag and grunt something like an agreement. “Well, he’s not an abomination, so that’s certainly a start.” The man sighed and added, “And he’s cute. Was that the part you liked?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there big guy, you were the one talking about bringing him to our bed.” The Iron Bull laughed and chucked a pillow across the room, smacking against Dorian’s ass as he was bent over picking up a pair of boots from the ground. When Dorian snagged it and chucked it back, The Iron Bull ducked and heard it knock over the set of cups and plates that had been left out from last night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oops,” Dorian voiced as he craned his neck to look at the mess he’d just made. “And I was joking, Bull. You’re too much handle as is. I’m not interested in bringing someone else in to handle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rumbling as he strolled over and wrapped his arms around Dorian, Bull put his lips to the man’s ear. “I don’t mind the handling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The annoyance in Dorian’s voice was offset by the way he cuddled back against The Iron Bull, slouching comfortably in his arms. “But in all seriousness, I think we’re making a good decision to work with this group. The Venatori bother me, and if the Inquisition will rise to that problem, they’re good in my eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy issues,” The Iron Bull teased as he let go of Dorian and smacked his ass. It was such a nice, firm ass that Bull had trouble keeping his hands off of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! And mommy issues, one might also argue.” He shook his head, rubbed his ass, and moved around The Iron Bull to pick up the things they’d knocked over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you said it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They packed up the remainder of their things without further incident and then joined the rest of The Chargers as the space they were camped at was made to look like it had before they’d planted themselves there. Cremissius was leading the group, organizing the efforts to get things moving. They were going to send most of the team to Haven with instructions for Grim to take lead and make contact with Leliana. She was a good spymistress and would know how to put his team to use. Krem, Dorian, and The Iron Bull were going to meet Lavellan in Redcliffe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull wanted to see more of how Lavellan’s team worked together. They were a mixed group, like The Chargers, but that feeling of unity didn’t strike him as anything strong. Other than between Lavellan and Solas, perhaps, which was odd to find between Dalish and city elves. Even Skinner and Dalish ran into issues with each other from time to time, but that tension wasn’t there with Lavellan and Solas. There were unique relationships to ponder, that was for certain. The Iron Bull lived for that sort of thing, and he’d been missing that part of his work for the Qun, if he were being honest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wound was still too fresh to really dig into, though Dorian was good at needling into problems. Especially at night in the afterhaze of good sex when The Iron Bull’s guard was down and he was more loose lipped about his own feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t what he needed to focus on right now. As the group split up, and he took Dorian and Krem along with him, Bull wanted their opinion on things, their first thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could be some trouble with them,” he tossed out, baiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krem looked over with a raised eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull didn’t answer quickly. Instead, he cast a glance at Dorian, back to Krem, and then forward on their trail as they rode their horses up the coast and toward the Hinterlands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Afraid they don’t work well together?” Dorian asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. No unity, except over frightening circumstances and powers they don’t understand yet.” The Iron Bull knew a bit about working with tentative allies under fear. It never went well. “If they don’t figure out what their goal is, together not separately, they’re not going to last long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian snorted. “We had our own pitfalls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just liked throwing fits until you got your way.” Krem flattened his lips and titled his nose up a bit; he was right, and had his word-sparring opponent been anyone other than Dorian, he might have shut them down with that look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it were, Dorian was not one to back down from any sort of fight, particularly not one where jabs were being thrown, The Iron Bull almost missed the days when the two would glare silently at each other and pretend to be friends when they knew Bull was watching. Ah, the good ole days. Now they bickered so much, The Iron Bull had learned to tune it out and delve into his thoughts. That wasn’t what he wanted right now, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t throw any fits. It was you who slumped around the camp, upset that you weren’t daddy’s favorite anymore,” Dorian sniffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You call him daddy?” Krem snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I was inferring that the rest of you are children!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm, I bet you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, that’s enough you two,” The Iron Bull interrupted. “At least you two have a joint annoyance to work from. Our soon to be allies don’t have a lot to unite around. We need to make sure they find it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krem gestured around at the sky. “Big gaping demon-upchucking holes in the sky are a pretty good unification factor I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, but groups also splinter over just that. They argue causes and point blame. Right now, that group seems mostly united over the collective blame being tossed at them. If they get defensive…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shitstorm,” Dorian blurted out. For all his eloquence, the man had a mouth like a sailor. “With some in-fighting and pointing fingers, they could implode, and if that Herald is at the middle, who knows what sort of disaster would spring from it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think they’re right? The rumors about him closing rifts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull shrugged. “Seen a lot of fucked up magic in my time, so maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve worked on a lot of fucked up magic in my time, but nothing like what they’re talking about. It seems impossible.” Dorian shook his head and shifted in the saddle. Bull watched him fidget. He was never great at long distances, and the fact that he stuck it with The Chargers, that he’d chosen to come with Bull all those months ago instead of staying behind with Maevaris, really said something about how Dorian felt. “That time magic that my parents are messing with worries me most. It wasn’t developed to work how they’re trying to use it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did they get that from Magister Alexius?” Krem hadn’t read the letters from Felix. No one but Dorian had, but he’d spilled much of it to Bull, which was how they’d ended up sending Krem off to fetch Lavellan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dorian sighed and Bull could see his jaw twitching. He didn’t like talking about his parents. “Under the guise of patching things up with me, actually. They assumed that Gereon would listen to them at least, and they were right. Gereon was always too trusting. Cared too much about Felix and me. As much as that makes me feel all warm and toasty, he shouldn’t have trusted them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did they know what you were working on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an old project. For a time, I kept them updated on everything I was doing. Before they tried to, well.” Dorian was slumping now; The Iron Bull would have to give him a little extra attention tonight to make up for the dour conversation. “I cared about what they thought, wanted them to see me succeed. I hoped that if I did enough, eventually the other things wouldn't matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Chief got over your necromancy, so parents should be able to.” Krem had been growing more and more sincere with Dorian, and vice versa. It was nice to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, but these are things we cannot change. How about we focus on what we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> fix, hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” The Iron Bull asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finding that Inquisition something to focus their might against.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all grunted agreement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ride into Redcliffe was odd. There had been rumors of the templar and mage war spilling across the land, but it seemed like a lot of that had calmed down. Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> calmed down. The backroads to Redcliffe after the Crossroads were eerily quiet. The fighting seemed to be focused in the valley. They did come across a bit of a scene along the way, dead bodies strewn across the ground outside of a house. Perhaps the Inquisition’s work, The Iron Bull suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Redcliffe itself was even worse. People, mainly mages, were spread around town sounding worried about everything. Most seemed to be talking about a deal made with a Tevinter Magister and the arrival of the Herald.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pick it up, team. I want to find a place to meet him without prying eyes,” The Iron Bull said, directing Krem and Dorian through the crowd. People parted easily for Bull. At times, that was annoying but most times, it was just useful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing at both of his people, The Iron Bull saw Dorian gripping his staff and holding his head up high. He had a lot of prejudice to fight against as well, but he outwardly took it well. Privately? Well, they got to whisper together in the dark about their worries and fears. Krem had a hand on his weapon, eyes darting and keeping his attention all around them just in case. Always a great second-in-command. The Chargers wouldn’t be what they were without him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m to meet Felix at the Chantry building,” Dorian said and pointed toward it as they came up a hill and could look over more of the buildings here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, good place to start. If we can get it cleared out, it would be a good place to meet Lavellan.” The Iron Bull headed in that direction hoping for some miracle in that Chantry. If Dorian’s parents really were here already, it wouldn’t do to have them see him. They’ve kept the man off the map and out of their hands for months now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix was standing at the doorway of the Chantry, chewing on his thumb nail. He looked up, caught eyes with Dorian, and pushed away from the wall to jog over to them. Dorian rushed over as well and they embraced each other for a long moment. The Iron Bull felt a pang of regret at how little they’d managed to get Dorian back in Tevinter to visit his friend. They were quite close, and much of Dorian’s happiness rested with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good you’re here. I have to get over to the tavern to meet with your father and the Herald.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is Magister Halward taking working with you?” Dorian asked with disdain clear in his voice. “Doesn’t he think you helped in my ‘kidnapping’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix snorted. “My father helped me. I’ve convinced him I’m rebelling against my father’s anti-Tevinter beliefs. Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t see it as unpatriotic, but apparently, if you’re not trying to conquer and command, you’re not a real ‘Vint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Krem did very well. He merely snorted, folding his arms over his chest to turn away. The Iron Bull stepped up and shook Felix’s hand. “Felix, good to see you. How are you going to draw the Herald away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Halward has decided he’s worried about my condition, treating me like a replacement son. I’ll use that against him, slip a note to the elf to meet here, then slip away.” Felix had a bit of a frown on his face, and The Iron Bull could guess which parts of that he wasn’t happy about. The man was putting up with a lot to be an inside voice for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” The Iron Bull said. “So we’ll head inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About that…” Felix grimaced. “There’s a tear in the veil inside. No one goes in because that seems to draw spirits out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull’s whole body shivered. “Ah fuck me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe later,” Dorian shot out with a grin. “But in all seriousness, it would be a good place to see the Herald put to the test. It’d be interesting to see if he really can close rifts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eeh,” The Iron Bull groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Chief. We’ll protect you.” Krem knocked his shoulder up into Bull’s arm. “Or you can wait outside while the Altus and I handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull knocked back into. “Yeah good try, Krem de la krem. I’m going in with you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix patted Dorian’s shoulders and hurried off. Dorian watched him go and his shoulders slumped. “He does so much for me. I feel quite like I neglect him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knows how you feel about him.” The Iron Bull put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder and turned him toward the Chantry. “There’s not a lot you can help him with while on the run. But you still found a way to help with the research they’re doing, and that probably means a lot to him, big guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Dorian hummed and leaned into Bull’s side. “I hope so. It’s good to see him, though, however briefly. Shall we?” He put a hand on the Chantry’s door handle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking another deep breath, The Iron Bull tried to steady himself for this bullshit they were about to enter then nodded once. “Let’s get this over with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he opened up the door, Dorian muttered, “Hope that elf gets here quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got stuck for longer than The Iron Bull would have liked hewing spirits that dropped down from the ragged green tear in their world. It was eerie, especially those tree things that bent in half and sprung up to screech a tidal wave of power at you. The Iron Bull dropped his axe at one point and thankfully, Dorian caught the creature with a bout of fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks kadan!” He shouted, grabbing the weapon and getting back to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Herald came in with a few of his team in tow. He slipped through the space, forcing spirits into the slower time spots and sprinting through the sped up places to throw daggers and launch from to take down those tree spirits. It really was magnificent. The Iron Bull appreciated a good fighter, whether they used a hulking hammer, a bout of flame from a staff, or blades in the dark. He liked watching them work. It had been his first attraction to Dorian, seeing him fling magic in the middle of a large group of mercenaries trying to take him in. Shit. Well, he’d have to put his feelings for this Lavellan off to the side. The very far side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the spirits were down, Lavellan thrust his hand out and shot a stream of green power at the tear. His teeth grit and set his jaw at a tight slant; this was clearly painful and difficult. That sort of power wasn’t supposed to run through an elf, human, dwarf, or qunari, The Iron Bull thought. The tear closed in a flash of light and Lavellan stumbled back then gripped his arm. He took a second to breathe, stood up tall shaking his arm out, and turned to everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. I take it you had a good reason to meet in the middle of a rift?” He was looking around the Chantry, apparently looking for somewhere to sit. He perched on the steps and pulled out a piece of cloth to wipe down his blades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact, two of ‘um.” The Iron Bull wandered near, keeping enough space so the man didn’t have to crane his neck up too far to look Bull in the face. “Wanted to see how that whole closing rifts thing worked, and this is the most private place here since no one wants to come in and get attacked by spirits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lavellan looked at him, nodded, then put his attention back on his weapons. “So, there is a Magister here and no one is sure about the timing and he’s run the Arl out so he could muscle the mages into his ranks.” Putting a blade away, he starts on the next one. “I’m not sure why you wanted me here for this because it doesn’t seem like I have many options here. He seemed willing to negotiate a deal with me to use the mages to close the rift, but it felt like lies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably was, knowing my father.” Dorian stepped up closer, leaning on his staff and looking down at Lavellan. “He feels nothing about lying to get what he wants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lavellan narrowed his eyes. “And why are you working against your own family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They lost my loyalty a while ago.” Dorian flitted a hand to move the conversation along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to talk with your people about how to deal with this. A Magister with that number of mages? We haven’t heard anything good about this Venatori cult that’s building,” The Iron Bull said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” came a voice from the doorway. In strolled Felix again, a bit out of breath as he walked down the Chantry aisle. “The Venatori are dangerous. They’re following some Ancient One who wants to use Tevinter to conquer the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Iron Bull sighed. “So, the same old troubles of the world. Conquer and rule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix twisted his lips, “Not quite. It’s more. They speak of him like a god. He’s claimed to have been around when the Magisters entered the Golden City.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s impossible. He’d be a Darkspawn.” Dorian didn’t look happy about this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why couldn’t that be possible?” Lavellan asked as he put the second weapon away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s insane,” the hard, warrior woman pipped up. She looked like she led most of their decisions and the interruption was a natural thing for her. “A darkspawn that old? Suddenly coming back and into power?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix shrugged. “That’s just what they’re saying. Whether it’s true or not doesn’t change the fact that this dialogue is dangerous. If people believe this, you could see a cult under the Tevinter banner trying to conquer Thedas. He’ll bring back old wars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lavellan stood up and held up a hand as Cassandra tried to speak up again. She had a sour face and made an annoyed sound. “This is very serious. I will not see even a cult of Tevinter make their way back in these lands.” He looked at Dorian, narrowing his eyes, then to Krem and Felix. “Since the three of you are here, I assume you agree you do not want that image for your homeland?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” they all said practically in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m working directly against that sort of thing,” Dorian added. “Felix’s father taught us better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Felix agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Lavellan straightened his Dalish armor and took on a thoughtful look. “I would like you all to join me on the way back to Haven. I’d like to discuss what you know and start coming up with solutions. At my absence, I guess that Magister Pavus will reach out to meet with me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He does want you dead,” Felix said in an almost sheeping tone. “I’ll have to stay behind but I can feed you information through birds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Lavellan looked at The Iron Bull. “Still ready to work with the Inquisition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mahanon, I’m not sure this is the best-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lavellan held up a hand again and stopped Casandra’s complaints. Then he went into Elvish and spoke for a few lines back and forth with Solas. It sounded so peaceful, just a soft flow of words and even tones. The Iron Bull wondered if one could actually tell when the Dalish were arguing or if they sounded just as soft then. “Please, join us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was the plan and it still is.” The Iron Bull nodded his head and then stepped out of the way so that Mahanon could lead them out and back to Haven. </span>
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